Tekken Care of Business
by rafcomedy
Summary: After winning the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5, Jin struggles with running the Mishima Zaibatsu, and runs into an old rival. Also, Paul and Law get their lives saved by a mysterious crusader. And Wang finally dies. R&R! Rated M for safety purposes.


It was a cold, dark night. Or a bright, sunny day. Whichever you prefer.

Jin Kazama was sitting on his throne, deep within the throes of the Mishima Zaibatsu after his victory in the King of Iron Fist Tournament 5. He yawned as he stared out towards the legions of servants at his immediate disposal.

"So…is this it?"

The commander of the Tekken Force stepped forward. "Yes sir!"

"Uh…okay. Wow, all that fighting, and for what? I'm bored."

"SIR! My men are quite capable of providing the utmost of entertainment for you, our leader!"

Jin raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You gotta be kidding me…"

"I kid you not, sir! Just say the word!"

"…the word…"

"MEN: ATTENTION!"

The Tekken Force soldiers suddenly stood at attention, startling Jin.

"Our master has given us an order--"

"Well, actually, it wasn't much of an--"

"We are to ENSURE that the glorious leader of the Mishima Zaibatsu is given quality entertainment--"

"You really don't have to be such an overachiever--"

"AT MY COMMAND, YOU WILL START DANCING! Sir, I request your permission!"

Jin paused. "…alright, I'll humor you guys. Go ahead."

"TEKKEN FORCE: COMMENCE DANCING!"

At once, the entire army of Tekken Force soldiers began dancing as a disco ball lowered from the grand ceiling and the song "Sandstorm" began playing seemingly from out of nowhere. Jin glanced around the room.

"Where the hell is that music coming from?" he muttered.

**ELSEWHERE**

King was visiting the doctor for his annual checkup. He was sitting in the waiting room, reading an issue of People Magazine.

"Oh, Christian Bale, when will you ever learn?" he asked, chuckling to himself. Several young children were staring at him in horror as he flipped through the pages. One of the child's parents approached King.

"Excuse me?"

King looked up. "Yes?"

"Uh…look, I really hate to bother you, but my son has been staring at you since you walked in and I think he's somewhat frightened by your…" the parent paused as he searched for the most politically-correct term, "…mask. Do you mind if I asked you to remove it, please?"

King suplexed the parent.

"Mister, uh, King? The doctor will see you now."

King left the waiting room, and walked into one of the examination rooms. The nurse pointed to the hospital bed.

"Just have a seat up there, and the doctor will be in shortly."

"Thanks," replied King, as he flipped open his magazine.

A few minutes later, the doctor opened the door to the examination room and walked in. King put his magazine down.

"Howdy, King, how are we today?"

"I feel great so far; let's hope it stays that way," King laughed.

"Well, King," the doctor sighed, "I'm afraid I can't fulfill that request."

"What do you mean, doc?"

"King, I've been looking at your chart, and unfortunately I have some bad news."

King froze for a moment. "What is it?"

"You have a malignant tumor encompassing your entire body from the neck up."

King let out a disjointed laugh. "No, wait a minute. I think I know what this is. It's the mask, isn't it?"

"That's the thing, King. You're not wearing a mask. Over the last several years, your tumor has somehow taken the form of a jaguar's head. It's stunned the entire medical industry. We have no idea how to fix it. I'm afraid you have three weeks to live."

King suplexed the doctor.

**BACK AT THE MISHIMA ZAIBATSU**

The Tekken Force was still dancing. Jin rested his head in his hand, unamused. Suddenly, the Tekken Force stopped. The commander looked at Jin.

"Sir, have we failed to entertain you?"

Jin was silent.

"Uh…sir? Master?"

Jin's head snapped up. "OH! Uh, sorry about that. I must have been spacing out or something. No, it was fine. Verrrrrry entertaining. But…"

"But what, sir?"

"Don't you guys have anything else to do? An agenda to carry out or something?" asked Jin.

The commander kneeled in front of Jin. "Sir, allow me to explain." He paused, anxiously staring at Jin.

Jin sighed. "Permission granted."

"Sir, due to your recent acquirement of the Mishima Zaibatsu, you are thereby the sole controller of everything within the empire, including us. We do not carry out any agendas except for that of our leader. Therefore, sir, if you give us an order we shall make due on our efforts to carry it out WITHOUT FAIL!

"Ah, okay," Jin rolled his eyes at the unnerving seriousness of his commander, "Then in that case, go get me a grilled cheese sandwich."

"YES SIR! SANDWICH FORCES, COME TO ATTENTION!"

A group of fourteen soldiers immediately ran up to the commander and stood at attention. The commander put his hands behind his back and began pacing back and forth.

"Your leader has just given you gentlemen an order. You are to travel to the farthest reaches of the Earth, to retrieve the FINEST grilled cheese sandwich EVER MADE!"

Jin got up and went to the bathroom.

"And should you bring back a substandard sandwich, you will be COMMANDED to go back out and retrieve another until our master is rightfully satisfied! Do I make myself clear?!"

The sandwich brigade shouted in unison, "SIR, YES SIR!"

"DISMISSED!!" and the sandwich brigade, dressed in full body armor and carrying large machine guns, ran out of the Zaibatsu to complete the unbelievably mundane task.

Jin stood up and flushed the toilet. A soldier suddenly appeared with a roll of toilet paper.

"Allow me, sir!" he began wiping furiously.

"AHH, OH GOD, WHAT THE--WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Jin shouted.

The soldier groveled. "Sir, I am just wiping your ass as my commander instructed me to!"

"You mean he ordered you to just sit in here all the time and then wipe my ass when I have to take a shit?" asked Jin.

"Yes sir!"

Jin shook his head in disbelief. "Jesus, you know what, dude?" he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, "Here, have this. Go get yourself a nice meal, and don't worry about wiping my ass. I'll handle that from now on, and…" he sighed as he thought about what he was about to say, "…that's an order."

"SIR, YES SIR! THANK YOU SIR!" the soldier ran out of the bathroom with an excitable grin plastered across his face.

Jin began walking back to his throne when the thought finally hit him, "OH GOD, GRANDPA! EWWWWWWWWW!!"

**SOMEWHERE ELSE AT ANOTHER POINT IN TIME**

Paul Phoenix was in a dark back alley, caught in the middle of a streetfight with a local gang.

"Yeah, c'mon ya punks! You can't beat me!" he smirked as he elbowed a thug in the gut. "You shoulda thought twice about tryin' to mug me!"

A large beast of a man then came behind Paul and whacked him in the head with a tire iron. Paul went down like a rock, and the gang began to, well, gang up on him.

"Oh, you ain't so tough now, are ya, eraserhead?"

"Hurr hurr, look at me! I'm such a great fighter! Take THAT!"

"By the time we're through with you, you'll look like a tomato infected with salmonella! You'll never be allowed into a Taco Bell again!"

Suddenly, the sound of a punch was heard, and one of the gang members hit the ground with his face a bloody mess. The other two gang members stopped beating up on Paul and looked around themselves, now paranoid. As they scanned the shadows, the faint sight of bat ears and a cape continuously entered their gaze. Before they realized what was going on, a masked crusader clocked their heads together and knocked them out cold.

Paul slowly gained to his feet, and jumped when he realized he was staring face-to-face with the caped vigilante, who simply glared back at Paul.

"Whoa dude, relax," Paul held up his hands in protest, "I'm not trying to fight you. But I wanted to thank you, man. You saved my ass back there."

The dark costumed man nodded sagely. "You don't have to thank me," and with that, he was gone.

Paul looked up towards the night sky. "Wait, come back!" his eyes widened, "Was that…the bat-man?"

**IN ANOTHER AREA**

Wang Jinrei died. And nobody cared.

**HOLY CRAP, EVEN SOMEWHERE ELSE**

Hwoarang shuffled into his local sandwich shop. He had been working there for some time just to make a little extra money. However, he hated it, and couldn't wait to get the hell outta there.

"I hate this, and I can't wait to get the hell outta here," he said as he put on his apron and walked behind the counter, preparing for another 7-hour soulless blindfolded bataan death march through the corporate minefield. Suddenly, the sandwich brigade from Jin's Tekken Force infiltrated the sandwich shop by swinging in through the glass, machine guns blazing.

"WHOA WHOA WHOA, CAN'T YOU JUST USE THE DOOR?!" shouted the sandwich shop manager.

One of the soldiers stepped up to the counter. "We are here on special orders from Jin Kazama, head of the Mishima Zaibatsu! We ORDER you to make the finest grilled cheese sandwich ever known to mankind, or face the consequences," he said, motioning towards the other soldiers with their machine guns.

Hwoarang was on mental autopilot. "Would you like that on wheat bread or white--" he quickly caught himself, "Wait a second: did you say Jin Kazama?"

"Yes sir, he is our leader! Now make us the sandwich!"

Hwoarang paused for a moment, and smirked. "I tell you guys what, you let me leave here with the ingredients to come with you guys back to the Zaibatsu, and I will personally make Mr. Kazama the sandwich for him myself. Deal?"

The lead soldier pulled out his cell phone and called Jin.

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

A phone began playing a polyphonic arrangement of "My Humps." Jin looked around the room as if he was waiting for someone else to pick up their phone, and then realized it was his own. Embarrassed, he answered it.

"Hello?"

"Sir, this is the leader of the sandwich brigade calling regarding your orders on retrieving the grilled cheese sandwich. Permission to speak, over?"

Jin mimed a gunshot to his head with his free hand. "Permission granted."

"Sir, we have arrived at a local sandwich shop and there is an employee who has offered to come back to the Zaibatsu with the ingredients so he can personally make the sandwich for you. Do you approve of this procedure, over?"

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever. By the way, this isn't a walkie-talkie--"

"Thank you sir! OVER!" the soldier hung up.

Jin sat in silence, unable to comprehend the conversation he just had.

"Honestly, what have I gotten myself into?"

**BACK AT THE SANDWICH SHOP**

The lead soldier turned to Hwoarang. "Our leader has given you permission to come to the Zaibatsu with us to make your sandwich. However, if you fail to meet his level of satisfaction, you will be terminated accordingly."

Hwoarang shrugged. "Alright, cool. Let's roll!"

The group walked outside as Hwoarang barraged the soldiers with questions, "So what kinda ride we got here? Some kinda super-military helicopter or something?"

His jaw dropped when he saw the soldiers' actual mode of transportation.

"A Plymouth Voyager?!" he exclaimed, pointing at the vehicle, "You guys are driving around in a MINIVAN?!"

"Troops: now we ride!"

The soldiers and a sulking Hwoarang filed into the minivan and began puttering back to the Zaibatsu.

**IN A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT PLACE THAN ALL OF THIS IS HAPPENING**

Paul was walking along the sidewalk with Marshall Law, his best friend.

"Dude, I'm not kidding! He had a cape and a mask with these, like, bat ears on top! And he was dressed in black!"

"I don't buy it," scoffed Law.

"I'm telling you, man--I was saved by the bat-man!"

Law stopped walking and turned to face Paul. "YOU ARE A COMPLETE MORON! This is a little something called REALITY, Paul, and in reality you don't get your life saved by a completely fictional character, and--HOLY SHIT, PAUL, LOOK OUT!"

Law swiftly pulled Paul back as a seven-inch dagger flew right past his head. After a moment, the two continued walking.

"So as I was saying, Paul, in reality you don't get your life saved by a completely fictional character. That's just absurd!"

"Let's get some pizza."

**SOMEWHERE IN CHINA, PERHAPS**

Lei Wulong was chasing a criminal through the crowded streets of Beijing.

"FDHREEEEZEH!"

Suddenly, the criminal stopped in his tracks, and turned to face Lei.

"What the hell did you just say?"

"FDHREEEEZEH!"

"Fr--freeze? Is that what you're trying to say? Freeze?"

"FDHREEEEZEH!"

"No, dude, you've got it all wrong. Trust me, I was an English major in college. Say it with me now: freeze."

"FDHREEEEZEH!"

"Oh, we are going to be here for quite a while…"

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

The sandwich brigade arrived back at the Zaibatsu.

"Sir, we have returned!"

Jin woke up from his nap. "Oh damn, back already? Alright. So who's the guy making the sandwich?"

Hwoarang confidently stepped forward. "Kazama! We finally meet again!"

Jin raised a puzzled eyebrow. "Hwoarang? You're the sandwich guy?"

Hwoarang shrugged. "Well, yeah, but now we can finally settle our long-lasting rivalry! Let's go!" he went into fighting stance.

Jin was unfazed. "You mean, you're working at a dinky little sandwich shop? That's what you're doing?"

Hwoarang furrowed his eyebrows. "Well, yeah. It's just a little side job, that's all. But that doesn't matter because now I'm here to finally settle the score!"

"Actually, it kinda does matter, dude," replied Jin, "I mean, a sandwich shop? That's pretty sad. I mean, look at me: I run the Mishima Zaibatsu. You're making minimum wage."

"I do NOT make minimum wage! I make about 75 bucks a day!"

"Uh, yeah, I just made 75 bucks in the time it took me to tell you that I just made 75 bucks. Give it up, dude."

Hwoarang gnashed his teeth. "ARGH!" he kicked one of the Tekken Force soldiers in the head, "LET'S DO THIS, KAZAMA!"

Jin waved his hand. "Nah, not today. Just go make me my sammich, bitch," he laughed.

Hwoarang stormed off toward the kitchen. "Yeah, that's right, I'll make you your damn sandwich…"

**BACK IN BEIJING, CHINA**

Lei Wulong was sitting with the criminal he was originally intending on arresting.

"So, why exactly did you turn to a life of crime?" he asked.

The criminal stared at the ground. "Well, you see, I was once a member of the police force too."

Lei became concerned. "Really? That's odd, because I've been in the force for years and I don't think I've ever seen you around the office."

The criminal shook his head. "No, no, not that force. Not your force. I was once a member of the grammar police. And, I guess…one day I saw one too many incorrect uses of the past participle verb and I just snapped. And now here I am."

"Wow," Lei stood up, "You're a big fucking nerd. Kiss the ground, hands on your head."

**ELSEWHERE ELSEWHERE**

Lee Chaolan was begging for attention.

"Hey, hey, HEY! Look at me! OVER HERE! HEEEEEY!! HELLOOOOO! Look at me, dammit! C'mon! LOOK!!"

Suddenly, Lee fell to the ground, motionless. Nina Williams approached his lifeless body and pulled out a poisoned dart from the back of his neck. She chuckled and shook her head.

"God, he was annoying," she said, before dragging Lee by the legs behind her.

"Where are you going with him?"

Nina looked over her shoulder. There stood her sisterly rival, Anna Williams.

Nina's eyes flared. "Why do you ask?"

Anna put her hands on her hips. "Oh, I was just curious, that's all, heehee…"

"Riiiiiiiiiight…"

"Well, sister darling, the boy IS dead after all. What do you need his body for?" asked Anna.

"Umm…I'd rather not get into that…"

"It's because you want to keep him in the closet, isn't it?" seethed Anna.

Lee raised his head. "Oh, for God's sake, why do people constantly assume this: I'M NOT GAY. Seriously, that was a stereotype from, like, five years ago. That's like cracking jokes about Heihachi's bathroom escapades; it's SOOOOO hack now."

Suddenly, Heihachi ran up to Lee. "Oh, you shoulda seen the shit I just took. The government had to quarantine the whole bathroom!"

Nina took her poison dart and jabbed it into Heihachi's forehead.

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

Hwoarang was in the kitchen, furiously preparing Jin's grilled cheese sandwich.

"Oh, that bastard BETTER like this damn thing! If he doesn't I am gonna kick his ass all over the place!"

Jin sauntered into the kitchen with a grin. "Oh, Hoo-rangy-poo, don't forget to blend the cheeses just the way I like it!"

"Fuck you."

Jin resumed his serious demeanor. "Really though, it better be a tasty sandwich. After all, it's taking you forever to make it."

Hwoarang glared at Jin. "Just relax, buddy. You'll get your sandwich…"

The Tekken Force commander burst into the kitchen. "MASTER!!"

"What is it now?" griped Jin.

"We just received a report that your father, Kazuya Mishima, is on a murderous rampage and he is on his way to the Zaibatsu to kill you and regain control of the empire!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake…"

**YOU KNOW WHAT, YOU DECIDE WHERE**

Kazuya was sitting in a recliner, smoking a pipe and reading the Wall Street Journal.

"What? I'm just following the stock market trends. I'm not out killing anybody. Now get off my property."

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

"MASTER!!"

"Yeah?"

"Okay, that was a false report. Upon further examination, we just realized he was reading about the murderous rampage being inflicted upon the American economy."

Jin sighed. "Well, that's a relief, I guess. That American economy sure in the shitter anyway."

"You said it, sir!"

**AT THE HOME OF THE READER**

The reader was reading this story, when suddenly representatives of the United States Government barged in.

"Hey, what's going on here?" you said.

"We're afraid you can no longer afford to read this story."

You became furious. "What are you TALKING about?! My parents make TONS of money!"

The representatives began disconnecting your computer. "We're repossessing this."

But then, the masked crusader appeared and dismantled the government representatives and reconnected your computer. He then quickly disappeared, almost as soon as he appeared in the first place. You were amazed.

"Was that…the bat-man?!"

**DEFINITELY NOT DENVER, COLORADO**

Yoshimitsu walked through the entrance of the airport. He was planning on visiting his family after many years of estrangement (telling your parents you wanted to be a space ninja didn't exactly go over too well, especially considering that they were Jewish). But as he attempted to walk through the security gate, the gate beeped. Yoshimitsu placed his sword in a tray on the security conveyor belt. He walked through a second time, and the gate beeped again.

"Sir, please remove any metal objects that you may have on you."

Yoshimitsu removed his metal footwear and placed them in the tray and walked through again. The gate continued to beep.

"Oh, come on now," he muttered.

He removed his metal gloves and chest armor and placed them in a second tray and walked through again. The gate continued to beep.

"Sir, can you please come step over here."

Yoshimitsu sighed. "Dammit…"

"Sir, please spread your arms and legs," Yoshimitsu was surveyed by a metal-detecting wand, which made a high-frequency noise.

Yoshimitsu removed his metal arm plates, leg plates, helmet, along with the rest of his full body armor, revealing himself to be Osama bin Laden.

"OH MY GOD, IT'S HIM! ARREST HIM, BOYS!!"

Yoshimitsu was tackled and handcuffed to the sounds of cheers and "USA!" chants by the rest of the airport patrons, including the security.

**SOMEWHERE, ANYWHERE**

Paul was still attempting to convince Law of the existence of "the bat-man."

"C'mon man, you mean you've bought every bit of my bullshit over the years but you won't believe this one-hundred percent TRUE fact?!"

"No, dude, I told you--I'm NOT buyin' it!"

Suddenly, a hobo grabbed Paul and held a knife to his throat.

"GIMME YER MONEY!"

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit, Law, don't do anything! Don't risk it! He might kill me!" pleaded Paul.

"You know, that does sound kinda tempting…"

"SHUT UP THE BOTH OF YA!"

There was a tap on the hobo's shoulder. The hobo turned around, and was met by a foot to the throat. Paul and Law turned to look at their savior. It was the masked vigilante, who immediately vanished. Law's jaw dropped.

"Was that…?"

Paul nodded. "…the bat-man…"

Paul and Law stood there, gazing upwards at the sky for the next 27 minutes.

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

Hwoarang emerged from the kitchen holding a single plate.

"Here's your damn sandwich, fucker!"

Jin turned off the television. "It's about damn time. I was getting really tired balancing inanimate objects on my chin."

Hwoarang thrust the plate toward Jin's face. Jin delicately took the plate from him. He inspected it from all angles, and even smelled it. As Hwoarang awkwardly stood there for 9 minutes, Jin continued to examine his sandwich. Then, Jin put the sandwich back on the plate and looked at Hwoarang.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Hwoarang blinked.

"…"

Jin turned around. "Well, I guess I'll see ya later, gator."

"LIKE HELL YOU WILL! LET'S GO, KAZAMA!!" Hwoarang jumpkicked Jin in the back.

Jin hit the ground with thunderous force. As he struggled to regain to his feet, Hwoarang continued to kick him into submission.

"I MAKE YOU AN AWESOME SANDWICH AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME?! I'M SETTLING THE SCORE RIGHT FUCKING NOW, KAZAMA!!"

The Tekken Force, having not been given any sort of order, simply watched in awe while standing at attention, as Jin got the living shit kicked out of him.

**RANDOMTOWN, BRAZIL**

Christie Monteiro was dancing. And probably getting gangbanged by some Brazilian drug dealers.

**BACK AT THE ZAIBATSU**

Hwoarang had mangled Jin into a bloody shell of a former man. He stood tall and proud of his accomplishment.

"Haha, yeah, I finally did it! I finally beat you, Kazama! After all these years of feuding since that fateful draw, and I finally defeated you once and for all! I'M KING OF THE WORLD!!"

Hwoarang's victory, however, was short-lived, because Kuma immediately barged in and ate Hwoarang up. And then took a massive bear-sized shit.

Heihachi then ran in. "It's like I always say, 'End on a poop joke!'" He then broke into song.

"AND THAT'S THE END OF THE STOOOOOOOORY!"

THE END


End file.
